


They're not Romeo and Juliet (they're more like Sid and Nancy)

by mikusgirlfriend



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Punk, Angst, Bad Boys, Band Fic, Emo, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Insecurity, Jealous Mark Lee (NCT), Jealousy, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Past eating disorder mentioned in one sentence, Piercings, Polyamory, Punk, Punk Rock, Sexuality Crisis, Shopping Malls, kind of, lots of references to rock bands, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikusgirlfriend/pseuds/mikusgirlfriend
Summary: Mark can dream as much as he wants to, but he knows he'll never measure up to Donghyuck or Yukhei. They're explosive, they're colourful, they're everything he's not. They're like Sid and Nancy, like Kurt and Courtney, like whatsername and St. Jimmy. They're rock stars, and Mark is just another insecure skater boy in oversized clothes.ORThe one where Donghyuck loves emo and punk rock, Yukhei works at a hot topic rip off and Mark is a little insecure and maybe in love with two boys at the same time
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 18
Kudos: 181





	They're not Romeo and Juliet (they're more like Sid and Nancy)

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty self indulgent heh, I really wanted to write about punk Donghyuck as well as push my punk / emo / post punk agenda onto poor unsuspecting kpoppers >:)  
> Mark has the blonde hair from limitless and my first and last because he absolutely ROCKED that bleached hair with a middle parting ugh  
> 
> 
> The songs mentioned in this fic are:  
> Saturday night - Misfits  
> Helena - My Chemical Romance  
> Anarchy in the UK - Sex Pistols  
> crushcrushcrush - Paramore  
> Hail Destroyer - Cancer Bats (the noise music in the shop)  
> 800° - Ebba Grön  
> About a girl - Nirvana  
> Helena - Misfits  
> You know you're right - Nirvana  
> Smells like teen spirit - Nirvana
> 
> I recommend listening to them while reading! This work was kind of inspred by brand new eyes by loveletterd. Check that out ater you've read this baby :P unbetad because I'm lazy

There’s a stain in the left corner of Mark’s ceiling.

He’s not completely sure where it comes from, or how it got there, but if he squints at it he can almost see it take the shape of a skull. Which is kind of badass and punk-ish, in a way that reminds him of Donghyuck, who’s all about skulls and zombies. It’s practical too, since his mother refuses to let him paint on the walls. It doesn’t matter that he tells her Kurt Cobain always used to write on the walls, hell if anything, hearing that Kurt Cobain is his inspiration makes her even less into the idea. She says Cobain was a good-for-nothing junkie who inspired young people to take drugs. Mark protests, and tries to tell her that Cobain always denied the drug rumours out of fear he would inspire people to ruin their lives the way he did, but she always chooses that moment to manually shut her ears off. Either that, or Mark’s step sister starts whining and screaming in that ear-grating way two year olds do. Which is probably for the best, since Mark knows next to nothing about Kurt Cobain, except for the things Donghyuck has told him. 

To be fair though, there’s probably not a single soul who knows more about Kurt Cobain than Lee Donghyuck does.

Donghyuck is just like that, knowing everything about his favourite artists as well as genre, never missing an opportunity to spew fun facts about Sid Vicious, or tell Mark the differences between punk rock, post punk, riot grrrl and hardcore punk (there are lots, and Mark still can’t tell the difference half of the time, but he listens to every song Donghyuck recommends him and if he likes them he saves them to his playlist). One of Mark’s fingers finds its way to his mouth and he gnaws on the nail, absent-minded as he continues staring off into space. He wants to go skating but his knees still throb after a particularly nasty fall he made yesterday, and besides, fucking Wong Yukhei is almost guarantueed to be at the skate park and Mark would rather not meet him right now. 

Or think about him for that matter. Which is kind of hard, since merely thinking his name makes images of the tall, handsome guy flood his brain. So Mark takes a deep breath and bites his nails with renewed vigor, until it stings and starts tasting faintly of metal. It makes him think of the first time he ever spoke to Donghyuck.

They’d met because they’d been paired together by the teacher for a science project, the first week of freshman year of high school. Mark had dumbly asked Donghyuck why he painted his nails and Donghyuck had immediately and without hesitation swung his bag like a weapon, socking Mark in the side and nearly sending him to the floor. Then he had calmly proclaimed Mark could do the project on his own because he refused to work with a “prejudice, homophobic, unfashionable piece of trash”. 

Mark had been perplexed to say the least. It took a couple of days to explain to Donghyuck that he’d simply been surprised to see nail polish on a guy, and that he had nothing against it, and then a couple of more days for Donghyuck to completely forgive him. How a friendship grew from that, Mark had no idea. 

A knock on his door breaks Mark out of his reverie and he grumbles a “come in” into his pillow. He hears the door open, light footsteps cross the threshold before the door closes and then…

“Seriously dude? Saturday night?”

Mark groans and buries his face further in his sheets, blindly reaching for something that he chucks in the general direction of the voice. Judging by the faint thump of the unidentified object on the floor and the snicker that follows, Mark misses. 

“What is this?” Donghyuck continues, because he loves making Mark’s life miserable, “Depressed punks anonymous? This is like their lamest song”

“Shut up” Mark mutters, voice muffled. He wants to not acknowledge Donghyuck for just a little longer. He isn’t ready to face him just yet, his Friday afternoons are supposed to be breaks from Donghyuck, Donghyuck and his honey voice and his awful mullet. He had cut it one day when Mark was over at his house and his parents started fighting, either unaware that Mark was there or uncaring. Donghyuck and Mark had locked themselves in the bathroom and Donghyuck had resolutely taken a pair of scissors to his long, beautiful locks and snipped them right then and there. The result was an uneven, choppy mullet, that paired with the bleached streaks in his hair, looked like something died on his head. Mark hated how well Donghyuck managed to pull off even the worst haircuts. 

“Your phone is cracked now by the way”

The words take a couple of seconds to fully register, but once they do Mark flies up from the bed, heart beating frantically in his chest. He really can’t afford a new phone right now, and he can’t believe he just threw his goddamn phone on the floor, his mom is going to  _ murder him _ . Then he sees the devilish smirk on Donghyuck’s face, and the CD on the floor and he realises that he’s been played.

As always, he thinks miserably when Donghyuck’s smirk turns into a victorious grin, Lee Donghyuck is one step ahead. It’s been like that ever since they became friends: Donghyuck is the one who leads the way, Mark stumbling after him, struggling to keep up the pace. They never match, Donghyuck always a little cooler, a little more fashionable, a little more outgoing. 

“Asshole” Mark grumbles, giving Donghyuck his best stink-eye. Donghyuck just laughs and throws himself on the bed next to Mark, making the mattress bounce under his weight. He grabs Mark’s phone, entering the password that Mark has no idea how he found out, to hijack Mark’s gloomy music-session. 

“You love me” Donghyuck quips as he scrolls through Spotify, and Mark feels an odd stab in his heart at Donghyuck's words. The Misfits are cut off by a quiet whisper and Mark’s lips twitch at the familiar notes.

“My chemical romance?” he asks and Donghyuck smiles dopily. 

“Fuck yeah” he responds, fishing up a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his black skinny jeans. It’s squashed, because Donghyuck is a dumbass who puts his cigarettes in the back pocket and then forgets about them and sits down. When Donghyuck pulls one out, Mark observes that it’s broken in at least one place. 

“You have to smoke out the window” Mark reminds him, as he always does, because even though he knows that Donghyuck knows, he’s terrified that his mom will come home one day and smell the smoke in his room. Mark is a pretty good boy, and he knows he’d send his mother into an early grave if he made her think he smokes. 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes so far Mark briefly worries they’re stuck, glued to the back of his skull.

“I know” he says, hopping off the bed to unlock Mark’s window. Part of Mark almost regrets reminding him, missing the warm feeling of his thigh pressing up against his. 

Donghyuck’s side profile when he’s sitting on Mark’s window sill, a cigarette perched between his lips, is absolutely stunning. He’s wearing a black T-shirt with a faded print of ‘Nevermind the Bollocks, here’s the Sex Pistols’ on the front, and his nails are a dark red, almost black, today. He’s beautiful, even as he’s sucking smoke down his lungs and probably fucking up that beuatiful singing voice of his. 

In a way, Mark has always wanted to be like Donghyuck. Or even just a little less himself. Donghyuck is tanned, he rocks eyeliner on the days he rolls out of bed on time, he wears ratty band T-shirts and tight jeans. He has the craziest mullet Mark has ever seen, and always has a new punk or emo band to introduce Mark to ( Mark will always listen because that’s the kind of friend he is, and he has to admit that some of them are kind of kickass). He paints his nails because he likes it and because he wants to show solidarity with women (“Did you know that Kurt Cobain used to wear dresses? To show that he was a feminist? He once said that he hated the violence women face, and…”), and he paints weird designs on his leather jacket. 

Mark is, in every sense of it, not like Donghyuck. He has big eyes, unproportionally big, that paired with his sharp cheekbones and overall gaunt face make him look like an insect. He’s short, but still manages to look gangly and stretched out, and his oversized skater clothes makes him appear even tinier. Every part of him is awkward, out of place, and it’s not fair when Donghyuck is so pretty, so pretty and so confident and so unavailable, crushing on someone who’s…

The breath is squeezed from Mark’s chest at the mere thought of Wong fucking Yukhei, and he quickly averts his eyes from Donghyuck, fumbling with his phone. Changing the song is a halfhearted attempt at steering his thoughts into another direction, but it kind of works when Sex Pistols explodes on the shitty little stereo and Donghyuck starts singing that he wants to be an anarchist. Then again, it kind of doesn’t work because the sight makes Mark’s heart positively ache and at this point he’s just waiting for the day his restraints break down and all the feelings come rushing out of him, flowing like a damn waterfall. Like the song lyrics that spill from Donghyuck’s lips, everything is going to rush out of Mark.

Because Mark thinks Donghyuck is so pretty… 

Oh.

_ Shit _ .

“Shit” Mark breathes out loud, staring into thin air, face twisted into a mask of horror. 

“What?” Donghyuck asks, flicking the ash off his cigarette. “Are you constipated?”

Mark can’t find it in himself to even pretend to be amused by Donghyuck’s dumb, dumb comment, his brain spinning with realisations. 

“No” he says slowly. “I think… I think I…”

Mark’s voice trails off into silence. Everything is swirling and in a way it feels like Mark is discovering something entirely new, while at the same time he’s just revisiting something he’s suspected all along. It’s fucking obvious, now that he thinks of it. The way Mark always wants to defend Donghyuck’s stupid, ugly mullet when his parents say it’s trashy, the way he’s always liked Donghyuck’s makeup, even back when he didn’t own real makeup and used regular crayons. 

He thinks Donghyuck is pretty. His best friend, the only person who puts up with Mark’s awkward self even though he can’t figure out why, is someone who Mark, to his great horror, is attracted to. 

“You think what?” Donghyuck asks, twisting his head to look at Mark. His eyes are twinkling, lined with messy eyeliner that lacks any type of finesse but still makes him look attractive in a bold, breathtaking way, and Mark wonders how he could have denied this for so long. He has some acne scars on his cheeks, a reminder of freshman year. Back when he had pimples and tried to learn how to play the guitar (and sucked at it), and overall was almost just as much of a loser as Mark was.

“Nothing” Mark says, clearing his throat to calm his racing heart. “I just… yeah it’s nothing. I remembered I have… homework. That I haven’t done”

It’s a foolproof lie, because Donghyuck hasn’t cared about doing his homework for as long as Mark has known him, and predictably Donghyuck just rolls his eyes and calls Mark a nerd. It’s a joke, and frankly there’s a lot of truth in the statement, but it makes something jolt inside of Mark. He  _ is _ a nerd, at least compared to Donghyuck. And he wishes he wasn’t, he wishes he was cool and unforgiving, ready to completely fuck the system and everyone’s expectations of him: but he can’t. He can’t, because deep down he wants to be good. Bringing home a glowing A makes pride simmer in his chest, and he  _ likes _ studying because apart from skateboarding and playing the guitar it’s the only thing he’s good at. Part of him yearns to be rebellious like Donghyuck, just to feel a little exciting, but an even bigger part of him is content with being a nerd who brings home good grades and a spotless attendance record.

“Wanna go to the mall later?” Donghyuck asks, throwing the cigarette out the window, watching it to make sure it sails down on the pavement where it can’t set anything on fire. “Yukhei’s working today. He said they’ve gotten some new T-shirts and I really wanna check them out”

Mark feels something in his mouth sour, static crackling in his ears. His head feels warm but his body grows cold, and he feels the blood rushing through his body, twisting like snakes or vines. 

Wong Yukhei. 

The bane of Mark’s existence, and simultaneously the flame his moth-self is inevitably drawn to. Mark hates him, hates the way Donghyuck wants to hang out with him all the time, the way he throws their balance completely off. But he also sort of really wants to be like Yukhei, wants to be tall in the way he is, wants to fill out his shirts the way Yukhei does, wants to wear ripped jeans like that, leather jackets like that, wants to listen to post hardcore and actually like it instead of pretending he does to seem cool. 

Donghyuck must sense Mark’s hesitation because he slides into Mark’s room again, attacking Mark with a surprise-hug that has Mark’s head spinning a little bit. Donghyuck smells strongly of cigarettes, and also a bit of sweat as well as that perfume he likes. It’s a women’s perfume, with a heavy, sweet smell, and Donghyuck has always proudly proclaimed that he doesn't care that it's meant for females, because it smells good and he absolutely rocks it. The combination of scents that assaults Mark’s nose is kind of nasty, but it’s also so Donghyuck and he can’t help but like it. 

“Come on” Donghyuck whines, dragging out the last syllable while looping his arms around Mark’s middle, rubbing his head against him like a weird animal seeking contact. “I’m going to need your emotional support! He’s so handsome, you know I’m going to make a fool out of myself”

Yes, Mark knows, but he doesn’t say anything, brain replaying the comment on Yukhei’s looks. Which is dumb, because Yukhei  _ is _ handsome, and claiming he isn’t would be like claiming the earth is flat. 

“Please Mark” Donghyuck tries again. “He’s going to play some really cool hardcore punk music where they only scream and I’m going to have to pretend like I like it so he’ll think I’m cool, listen, I  _ really _ need you there”

“You know you don’t have to pretend to like it” Mark cuts him off. “Yukhei likes you, he won’t cut the contact if he finds out you shake your butt to Paramore”

Saying that Yukhei likes Donghyuck leaves an acidic taste on Mark’s tongue, and it doesn’t get any better when the comment results in an excited squeal from Donghyuck. 

“I still think you should come” Donghyuck says, hands reaching up to comb through Mark’s messy hair, sorting the strands. Mark holds his breath for a few seconds, skin burning in every place where Donghyuck touches it. Donghyuck squints at Mark, sucking thoughtfully on his tongue as if struck by a sudden idea. “We should bleach your hair. You’d look so fucking dope in blonde”

Mark draws a breath before shoving Donghyuck’s hand away from his face, feeling his own cheeks heat up. The Sex Pistols song has stopped playing, replaced by a Paramore song. Mark flushes deeper when he realises that the song is about having a crush on someone and a part of him kind of wants to die when Hayley Williams sings ‘let’s be more than this’.

“Don’t be dumb” Mark protests weakly, because he’s always weak to Donghyuck and his awful ideas. “I’d look stupid”

“No” Donghyuck insists passionately, hands finding their way back to Mark’s head to tug at his hair. The pulling makes small arrows of pain shoot through his skull, and Mark swats Donghyuck away once again. “You’d look like a skater boy, but in an actually cool way”

“Fuck you” Mark says, glaring half-heartedly at Donghyuck. 

“Like in a ‘he was a sk8er boi, she said see you later boy’ type of way”

Donghyuck sings the line from the song, completely off-tune even though Mark knows he can sing when he wants to, and with every screeching tone he belts out Mark feels his resolve slipping. He’s remarkably receptive to Donghyuck’s bad ideas. 

“But you’re gonna fry my hair” Mark points out as a last escape. “I’ve seen it happen in youtube-videos. The hair turns into noodles, and then it breaks or falls out of their skull”

Donghyuck barks out a laughter, that special Donghyuck-laugh where he opens his whole mouth and positively bubbles.

“That won’t happen dumbfuck” he muses. “It only happens if you don’t know what you’re doing. Besides, you’re asian. Your hair is strong as fuck”

And Mark would love to argue more with Donghyuck, tell him that this is a terrible idea and that his parents are going to murder him, but Donghyuck is looking at him with big puppy eyes and Hayley Williams is singing that ‘we’re all alone now’ and Mark crumbles.

“Fine” he mutters, and Donghyuck pumps a victorious fist in the air. Mark only realises his mistake when Donghyuck opens his mouth. 

“Now that we have an excuse, let’s go to the mall and meet Yukhei!”

Mark wants to protest violently, say it’s not necessary at all, but it’s a lie and he knows it. Because Wong Yukhei just so happens to work at the mall’s only alternative store, and if you’re buying any type of hairdye or bleach it would be stupid to go anywhere else. Mark knows there’s no way out of this. 

That doesn’t stop him from dreading it any less, dragging his feet behind himself the entire way to the mall, hands clasping his trusty skateboard, hoping that if he’s slow enough Donghyuck will get tired of him and leave him behind. The thought of being abandoned for Yukhei stings, but it’d almost be worth it if it meant he didn’t have to suffer through seeing Donghyuck playing cool in front of an older boy for half an hour. Playing and succeeding, because even if Yukhei is hotter and beefier than Donghyuck and Mark together, Yukhei is a little dumb and giggly, like a puppy, and no amount of piercings can truly match how cool Donghyuck is when he talks about female representation in the alternative music scene. Not even Yukhei’s stupid septum. Or his industrial.

In the end, for better or for worse, Donghyuck doesn’t abandon Mark but whines at him to walk faster, pulling at his arm until he nearly rips it off. It sucks to see Donghyuck this excited when Mark isn’t the cause, and this realisation makes Mark feel nauseous. What kind of a best friend is he? A shitty one, for sure, and selfish too. 

But he has no control over his feelings, and he can’t do anything about the acidic taste that wells up in his mouth as they step inside the Hot Topic-ripoff where Yukhei works. The speakers are blasting some awful music that mostly sounds like noise, with loud drums and someone screaming unintelligible words on top of that. It sounds like a chainsaw and it makes Mark’s brain rattle. It doesn’t make things better that the shop is small and warm, any excess space occupied by rows of weird, studded accessories, and T-shirts with bands Mark has never heard of. 

“Yo Hyuck, whaddup!”   
An unmistakable voice booms through the shop and Wong Yukhei, in the flesh, crosses the entire store in two steps with his long legs (unfair), enthusiastically hugging Donghyuck hello. Mark barely has the time to feel annoyed before Yukhei releases Donghyuck and goes to hug him too, which makes his entire brain go blank because he totally wasn’t expecting that. He’s only met Yukhei once before (although it feels like they’ve met many times since Donghyuck talks about him seemingly all the time) and to Mark that’s not nearly enough to be on hugging basis already. Yukhei’s arms are strong and warm around his middle, and the way he hunches over him makes him feel ridiculously small. He smells like sweat, and gasoline and something else that Mark can’t quite pinpoint. When he leans back with a dumb grin plastered across his face, the warmth of his body doesn’t quite leave Mark. 

“And you too Mark” he says, smiling like he’s happy Mark is there. Mark feels something akin to nausea twist in him because Yukhei looks like he genuinely wants Mark there, while Mark would rather be anywhere else in the world. 

“Hi Xuxi!” Donghyuck exclaims excitedly, as if calling Yukhei by his mandarin name is some big deal. He then elbows Mark in the ribs, and Mark has to stifle a curse because Donghyuck’s elbows are sharp.

“Hi” Mark mutters, wondering if the one syllable comes out as awkwardly as he feels when he says it. Judging by the way Yukhei’s smile grows even wider, it either doesn’t, or Yukhei is just really good at feigning comfort. 

“What” Yukhei says, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. He’s wearing a tank top that perfectly shows off the way his muscles bulge from the movement, and his earrings jingle quietly from his big ears. His eyes are glittering, framed by eyeliner that looks significantly messier than Donghyuck’s, almost as if he tried to draw it using an actual paintbrush, but he still manages to pull it off because he’s stupidly attractive like that. “brings you two here?”

The question sets Donghyuck off, and he starts blabbering about hair-bleaching and how boring Mark is who’s never done anything to his hair (“D’ya get it Lucas? He’s a total hair-virgin!”) and Mark zones out. He doesn’t mind it when Donghyuck makes fun of him, not really. He knows Donghyuck would stop the moment he told him to, like when Donghyuck teased him for how skinny he was back in freshman year until Mark snapped and told him he’d had an eating disorder from age 9 to 13 and that he would really fucking appreciate it if Donghyuck could shut the fuck up about his body. 

It was the first, and remains the only, time Mark got angry at Donghyuck. Donghyuck gets angry at Mark all the time; for being a bootlicker, for not being feminist enough, for not engaging in any activism, for not doing enough for the climate (even if Mark is the vegetarian between the two, something Donghyuck failed with since he loves chicken too much), but Mark never gets angry with Donghyuck. Except for that one time of course. Donghyuck had never looked so deeply ashamed of himself, and he never teased Mark for his weight again. So, Mark knows that if he asked Donghyuck to stop teasing him in order to look cool in front of Yukhei, he would. But he sort of doesn’t want to.

Donghyuck and Xuxi are pretty similar: they’re both loud and obnoxious, bold and colourful and confident. Watching them talk to each other, Donghyuck with his witty and clever jabs and Yukhei with his dumb and somehow simultanously genius observations, is like watching a well-oiled machine. Mark kind of doesn’t want to intervene, even if he feels left out. He loves seeing Donghyuck in his element, and if it requires being made fun of then so be it.

Donghyuck is talking about something, gesturing animatedly, the bangs of his bleach-damaged mullet tickling his eyelashes. Yukhei is watching with mirth dancing in his eyes, the chains on his jeans dangling everytime he laughs. Because Yukhei is one of those people who laughs with his whole body, shaking and convulsing even though Donghyuck’s probably just spewing the same dumb bullshit as always. Mark feels small and pale, holding his skateboard like it’s his lifeline, until his knuckles become white with the force of his grip. 

Donghyuck glows golden under the lights of the store, gleams as bright as Yukhei’s jewelry, and Mark almost thinks they’ve forgotten him entirely. Then they both turn to him, and he realises he probably should have listened.

“Sorry?” he croaks out, making Donghyuck roll his eyes. 

“Stop shutting down” he says, but his tone is gentler, quieter, and Mark doesn’t think Yukhei can hear him. A spike of affection pangs straight through his heart, because of course Donghyuck could tell he was shutting himself off, drifting away from the conversation as he let himself be consumed by his insecurities. Donghyuck can always tell, and even if cool, attractive Wong Yukhei is right in front of him he still chooses to make sure Mark isn’t drowning in social anxiety.

“I… yeah” he says softly. Even if Mark’s anxiety is a lot more manageable than it was when he was younger, it still gets too much sometimes. And somehow, Donghyuck can always sense when this happens, ready to calm him down with a few simple words or a hand in his. 

Donghyuck nods at him, smiling, before turning to Yukhei. 

“Yeah he wants to go platinum” he says with an evil grin. Yukhei smirks back. 

“Well luckily, my shift ends in ten minutes”

And that’s how they find themselves in Mark’s bathroom, Donghyuck on the toilet seat and Mark on the sink, his scalp stinging from the third round of strong chemicals. Yukhei is sitting in the bathtub, his long legs folded in order to fit. Donghyuck’s punk playlist is playing faintly in the background, attacking their ears with an odd mix of riot grrrl-bands who yell about feminism, and swedish punk bands who scream like vikings about things Mark can’t pick up since he doesn’t speak swedish. Mark will never get how swedish punk bands are any better than american or british ones: if anything, they’re worse, and Donghyuck can’t even understand the lyrics.    
Donghyuck insists that the swedish language makes it a whole different thing. Mark thinks that he’s either full of shit, or lying to himself, because to him it’s the same yelling as in every other punk rock song he’s heard. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not swedish” he points out as Donghyuck tries to sing along to a song that, admittedly, is pretty okay. 800° the little letters on Donghyuck’s screen tell him. 

“Fuck off” Donghyuck says lazily. “I was having a moment. The spirit of Ebba Grön took over me”

It’s Yukhei’s turn to scoff. 

“I’m like 110% sure that’s not how you pronounce it” he smiles, and Mark has to bite his tongue not to point out that there’s no such thing as 110%, at least not in this context. Instead, he picks up the box of bleach. 

“How long is this thing supposed to be on my head?” he asks, brows furrowed. “I’m pretty sure the skin on my scalp is starting to peel off. Seriously, can anyone check if I’m bleeding?”

To Mark’s surprise, Yukhei belts out a loud laughter. Mark startles. He’d aimed to make Donghyuck laugh (although he’d been partly serious, the bleach stings like fuck), but strangely, the knowledge that he made Yukhei laugh makes him feel kind of proud.

Must be because Yukhei is cool and Mark wants to be cool like him, right?

Right. 

“Stop whining, I have everything under control” Donghyuck says, his eyes shining with that mad glint of someone who has absolutely nothing under control. “Besides, beauty is pain”

Mark frowns, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, tugging it into his mouth before releasing it. He misses the small hiss Yukhei gives at the action. 

“Weren’t you the one who berated me for using that expression, because it solidifies and normalises the idea that women are supposed to force themselves into unrealistic beauty ideals? Often in order to please men, as men are the ones setting beauty standards for women?” Mark asks, and Donghyuck blushes, embarrassed since it indeed was him who said that. And then, evidently, forgot about it. Yukhei on the other hand, stares at both boys with his eyes wide in wonder.    
“Wow” he breathes, making Mark and Donghyuck turn their heads to look at him. “That’s like… so smart and so true”

Donghyuck blushes a deeper red under the praise and Mark feels a billion white-hot pinpricks of jealousy all over his body. He never sees Donghyuck like this, meek and squirming, and he hates it.

Hates that it happens, hates that he’s not the cause of it, hates that he’s not in Donghyuck’s place, hates that he’s not on the receiving end of Yukhei’s compliments…

Mark shakes his head. God the chemicals must really be getting to his brain.

“For someone who’s into punk rock you’re not very educated on women’s rights” Mark says before he can stop himself. It’s uncharacteristically confrontational for Mark Lee, and Donghyuck glares angrily at him. Mark half expects Xuxi to get pissed at him, maybe even sock him in the face. But he just sighs and picks at a loose thread on his jeans. 

“I know” he says dejectedly. “I try, but like, I grew up with two brothers and a single dad who was really into the whole macho mindset”

Donghyuck grimaces, and as much as Mark wants to hate Yukhei for stealing his best friend, he can’t help but mirror Donghyuck’s reaction. His comment was meant to highlight Yukhei’s ignorance, but apparently the chinese boy is more self-aware than Mark had counted with.

“I know it’s not an excuse” Yukhei continues, illustrating his words with energetic hand movements that make his studded bracelets jingle. “But I guess it’s why I sometimes forget what a sexist society we live in. And why I sometimes don’t think to question it”   
“Amen” Mark says with a monotone voice. 

“A-women, you mean” Donghyuck says cheekily and Mark rolls his eyes. 

“I hate you” he grumbles, but his voice is soft and his stomach is fluttery, and there’s not an ounce of truth in his words. 

And Donghyuck grins at Mark like he knows, like he can tell what Mark really means, and when the sun flows in through the window and illuminates Donghyuck he looks like a damn angel. An angel with a choppy mullet and a leather jacket and serious attitude problems. And behind Donghyuck, squeezed into a way too small bathtub, Yukhei sits with a dopey grin on his face, like he doesn’t fully understand the exchange going on in front of him, but is kind of okay with it anyway. Mark wants to continue hating Yukhei, because a part of him knows that Donghyuck’s crush on him is reciprocated and that it’s just a matter of time before they get their shit together and leave him, loser-skater-good-boy Mark behind, but in that moment it’s kind of hard to. He looks so cool and at the same time so fucking dorky, his tall, muscular body heavy with chains and piercings curled up in that tiny fucking bathtub.

When Donghyuck washes the bleach out of Mark’s hair to the tones of ‘About a girl’, every touch makes Mark’s skin burn. Yukhei stands behind him, the warmth of his body detectable whenever he leans forward to pull at Mark’s shirt, making sure the neckline doesn’t get wet. It makes Mark buzz in a way that’s different, but not unpleasant and Mark thinks that in an alternate universe where Yukhei isn’t about to rip Donghyuck from him, they might have been friends. At least, if the butterflies that erupt in his stomach everytime Xuxi’s breath fans across his neck are anything to go by.

Kurt’s voice is raspy and raw, and very unlike Donghyuck’s clear, beautiful one, but somehow when the two are stacked on top of each other, it works. It works because Donghyuck’s bell-chime-voice isn’t supposed to be singing such melancholic songs or lyrics, and when Kurt Cobain’s growl is backing him up, it’s sort of awesome. Mark has never been all that into Nirvana. Based on the things Donghyuck has told him they seemed like a cool band, writing songs about sexism and rape, wearing dresses and telling homophobes not to buy their albums. But Mark finds the songs to be too dark, too negative. The only song he likes is the one Donghyuck played to him when they became friends, and the ones he’s heard Donghyuck sing. He’d rather die than admit it, but that was the only reason he learned some of their songs on guitar: so he could play and listen to Donghyuck singing with that raw passion of his.

Pretend for a very short moment that they were a less tragic rendition of Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love.

Donghyuck blow dries Mark’s hair and Mark looks at Yukhei, thinking with a slight sting that if anyone is Courtney Love in this situation, it’s Lucas. Mark can imagine all he wants, learn every chord to every Nirvana song ever written: he’s still never going to be Courtney Love because he isn’t nearly cool, or interesting enough. That role is assigned to Yukhei, Yukhei who waltzed into Donghyuck’s life mere months ago and already seems to have stolen his heart.

And how could he not? He’s tall, he fills out his clothes in a way Mark can’t even dream of doing, he has piercings Mark’s mother would never allow, and he is adorably dumb in a way that makes you want to hug him. Ever since Donghyuck met him, he’s talked about him every opportunity he got, to the point where Mark felt like he knew Yukhei better than Yukhei himself. Naturally, Mark hated Yukhei. Hated him the way you do when someone bursts into your life out of nowhere and steals your best friend. Then Donghyuck dragged him to the mall and Mark got to meet Yukhei for the first time.

Yukhei was like everything Donghyuck had told Mark, and to Mark’s dismay he was every bit as charming as Donghyuck had made him seem. Mark wanted to hate him so bad, still does, but Yukhei is such an all around good guy that only jealousy and fear of abandonment can fit inside of Mark’s heart when he thinks of Yukhei. 

When Mark looks into the mirror to see the result he can only stare, at a loss of words. 

It’s not bad. 

Sure, it hangs kind of lifeless from a middle parting Mark isn’t sure suits him, and it definitely makes his already big insect-eyes look even bigger, but it’s not awful. It’s new, it’s fresh, and Mark never cared much for his hair anyways. 

“It’s fucking sick dude” Yukhei pipes up from the bathtub, making something coil hotly in Mark’s stomach.

“Thanks” he says, somewhat shyly. Donghyuck takes a strand of hair between his fingers, scrutinizing it. Having his face, his creased forehead and freckled cheeks, so close to Mark’s makes Mark’s heart beat fast and hard. 

“It’s not even that damaged” Donghyuck says, his breath tickling Mark’s face. It smells like energy drinks and cigarettes, and like so many things in the world it should be gross but it isn’t, simply because it’s attached to Mark’s favourite person in the world. “We bleached it three times, what the hell”

Mark laughs, gently shoving Donghyuck so he’s on a safe distance. 

“Good for you” Mark says. “I would have killed you if you ruined my hair.”

Donghyuck chuckles and shakes his head. Yukhei heaves himself out of the bathtub, chains chiming as he moves. His hair is messy, black strands pointing in every direction, and his makeup has started melting a little.

“Come on” he says. “Let’s go have a smoke”

Mark shivers a little when they go out, because the temperature has dropped and his baggy pants and oversized sweatshirt no longer really shields him from the cold. He wonders how Donghyuck can take it, with only a leather jacket on top of his T-shirt, not to mention Yukhei who’s still just wearing a tank top. His hair feels a little dry and stiff, weird when it dances around his face. He’s carrying his skateboard under his arm, just in case he feels too left out and needs a quick escape. 

Donghyuck is walking backwards, facing him and Lucas as he talks animatedly about something Mark has stopped taking in long since. He thinks it’s another riot grrrl punk band, but he lost track somewhere between Donghyuck’s rosy lips and panda-makeup, and the way his black nailpolish reflects the sunlight. Lucas on the other hand is listening intently, soaking up every word like a sponge. Mark can relate to that: Donghyuck has this talent for really drawing you in and captivating you, no matter what he’s talking about.

Unless you’re Mark Lee of course, and you’re a terrible friend who gets distracted by his looks. 

Yukhei thinks it’s a great idea to go to the abandoned playground a couple of streets away. Mark thinks it’s embarrassing but doesn’t dare disagree, and Donghyuck agrees just because Yukhei suggested it (who’s the bootlicker now huh?). Mark sits down on the ground because he’s never really been one to care about dirt and he wouldn’t be caught dead on the swings. It is kind of amusing to see titan-scaled Wong Yukhei try to fit onto one of the tiny swings.

A little less amusing when Donghyuck claims the other swing is dirty and plops down in Yukhei’s lap. It makes Xuxi choke and sputter, red-faced, and it makes something cold and hard lodge itself in Mark’s airways, blocking the way and making it hard to breathe. He sits down on the ground in front of them, trying to look anywhere but the way Donghyuck is perched sideways on Yukhei’s lap, leaning in way closer than necessary to light his cigarette. The gravelled ground is uneven and rough under Mark’s buttocks and he tries to concentrate on his discomfort rather than the blatant flirting going on right in front of his face (right in front of my salad?).

Yukhei smokes like he talks and acts: he takes big, deep drags, seemingly trying to pull down as much smoke as possible down his poor lungs. He smokes Marlboro, red, and it’s so classic that Mark almost wants to puke. 

None of them thought to bring a speaker, so they play music from Donghyuck’s phone, the shitty phone-speakers making Gerard Way’s voice thinner and flatter than it really is as he sings about gravity not meaning much to him. The song reminds Mark of when Donghyuck came out to him, a couple of months into their friendship. They’d been watching the music video to ‘I’m not okay’ and Donghyuck had casually said that Gerard Way was hot. Mark had agreed, because he was. The half-long, greasy black hair and red eyeshadow would have anyone swooning over him. Then Donghyuck had went on to say that he really liked guys like Gerard. 

That he liked guys in general, but especially those who looked like Gerard.

And Mark had felt the entire world come to a stop, but he had forced himself to be calm because he knew that Donghyuck was gauging him for his reaction, and that the words he said next could end up changing their entire friendship for good. So he had nodded and softly said that he hoped he’d find his Gerard, and that he’d make the perfect Frank to them. It had been just by the scene where Frank kisses Gerard’s cheek and Donghyuck had grinned and said that yeah, he’d be someone’s Frank one day. 

Now, Mark feels a lot like he did that day.

It feels like the whole world is slowing to a halt, everything around him and everything inside him freezing. His face feels hot, and his body as cold as ice, and he watches in slow motion as Donghyuck leans in, closer and closer until his lips brush against Yukhei’s. And Yukhei has that self-confident smirk on his face and he closes his eyes as their mouths meet and Mark wants to look away, he swears he wants to. 

He just can’t.

His eyes are glued to the two boys as their lips mould against each other, fitting together seamlessly. Donghyuck opens his mouth a little wider and Yukhei softly bites down on his lower lip, cigarette dropping to the ground as he grabs his waist with one of his huge hands. Donghyuck reaches up to cup Xuxi’s jaw and as Mark’s dick gives a little twitch, he reaches two horrible conclusions.

The first one is that he’d really like to be in Xuxi’s position. Which doesn’t really surprise or freak him out that much. It should, considering he realised his attraction to Donghyuck just a couple of hours earlier, but it hits him softly, like a wave he’d kind of expected washing over his feet.

The second one on the other hand, hits him like a ton of bricks in the face, and it’s that he wouldn’t really mind being in Donghyuck’s place either. He wouldn’t mind sitting on Yukhei’s muscular thighs, with his big palm resting on the curve of his waist, the other one on his ribs. This realisation comes as a shock, because Mark had always assumed that he hated Yukhei, hated him for stealing his best friend.

Now he dimly registers, as he watches Xuxi lick into Donghyuck’s mouth, it wasn’t just that: he was jealous of both of them, for flirting with each other. And, he realises with rapidly growing horror that wells up in his throat like bile, it’s not just because he’s scared of being left out. It’s because he wants to be there too. 

He wants to kiss them, both of them.

Mark rises to his feet, stumbles backwards, tripping over something. He doesn’t say anything, just flees the scene without a word. He thinks he might hear Donghyuck call out his name as he runs, but it might be his imagination.

Wishful thinking, he thinks with a shudder going down his spine. 

He runs the (admittedly short) distance home, skateboard still clutched under his arm like a goddamn loser. His lungs burn and sting, but it’s okay because then he can pretend like the burn in his eyes are tears of exhaustion and nothing else. His legs feel numb and he feels like he’s suffocating even when he sucks air in big gulps. Mark regrets not participating more in gym class, and that he gave up dancing at eleven. His mother did say he would, and Mark’s mother is always right.

When she opens the door and sees the tear tracks on Mark’s swollen cheeks, the way he’s panting and his red-rimmed eyes, she doesn’t ask any unnecessary questions. She doesn’t pressure Mark, or jump to any conclusions. She just pulls Mark into her lap as if he’s nine and has had a nightmare, and Mark is too overwhelmed to complain that he’s way too old to sit in his mama’s lap. She strokes him over his hair and softly asks him what the hell he’s done to it. And Mark thinks of the way Donghyuck had ran his fingers through it when he’d washed out the bleach and a new wave of panic hits him, forcing tears out of his ears.

“Donghyuck b-bleached it” he sobs pitifully, wiping his runny nose. “Do you hate it?”

His mother laughs at this.

“I don’t like it” she admits with a smile. “But parents are supposed to disagree with their children’s decisions, aren’t they? I’m just happy the most rebellious thing you’ve done so far is bleaching your hair”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Mark slowly calming down enough so that he can breathe properly. His eyes are sore and his face is stiff where salty tears have dried, snot running down his chin. Mark’s mother combs her fingers through his damaged hair, methodically distangling it with her hands. 

“I’m guessing this is about Donghyuck too” she finally says. Mark sucks his lip into his mouth, biting at it. For a moment he considers lying, but then he remembers this is his mother. His mother who loves him and would do absolutely anything for him. And above all, sees through all of his lies. 

“Yeah” he says with a small voice, grumbling when his mother wipes his nose with a rough shirt sleeve. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” she asks, and no, not really. Mark would rather bury it and forget about it. But then he thinks about the wet noises of Donghyuck’s lips sliding against Yukhei’s and he realises just how much he wants to cry. 

“Mom” Mark sobs “What if… what if I liked what he likes?”

Mark’s mother wipes his cheek, the sleeve of her sweater once again tickling him uncomfortably. 

“And what does he like?” she asks calmly and Mark looks up at her, a lump in his throat. 

“Boys” he whispers, every muscle in his body tensing, the monkey in him getting ready for fight or flight. He stares at his mother, analysing her face looking for the smallest of muscle twitch, trying to read her in this unguarded moment of shock, before she can catch herself. He suddenly really understands how Donghyuck must have felt when he came out to him.

Slowly, Mark’s mother opens her mouth, looking very serious.

“I think” she says, dragging out every syllable while keeping eye contact. “That would be completely okay. Because…it’s… I… “   
She seems to be looking for the words for a moment before shrugging. 

“I don’t know” she says. “It would just… be okay. You’re okay. You’ll always be”

And Mark hugs her, harder than he has in a long time.

Over the course of the weekend, Mark receives two calls from Donghyuck and a couple of text messages ranging from confused to angry. He also receives a text message from an unknown number, reading ‘y are u ignoring him?’. Mark guesses it’s Yukhei, and because he’s feeling petty and dramatic he sets his name as Sid Vicious, changing Donghyuck’s to Nancy Spunger. However, Mark isn’t petty and dramatic enough to completely ignore his best friend, sending him a ‘sorry for not responding. can we talk monday at school?” sunday morning. Mark almost doesn’t dare checking the reply (which takes hours, because Donghyuck is arguably the pettiest person Mark has ever encountered), but when he finally does it’s a simple ‘k’. It’s better than being ignored, but when Mark makes his way to school the next day he’s physically dragging his feet behind himself. Anything to postpone the upcoming confrontation, uncaring that the pavement will scuff up the soles of his already worn out vans. Not even the tones of Donghyuck’s favourite Misfits song, soothing in its familiarity, can help Mark’s anxiety.

He senses Donghyuck’s presence before he sees him. Like how you can feel the oncoming rain in the air, he feels the oncoming Donghyuck buzz like static in the air. Invisible, but undeniably there, until he turns around a corner and spots Donghyuck in all his glory. 

He’s wearing a pair of ripped jeans that show more skin than fabric, a black nirvana-shirt and his signature leather jacket askew on his shoulders. He ditched the eyeliner for eyeshadow today, trading the thin black line for huge red, smoky eyes. His mullet either went unbrushed today, or he’s been tugging a lot at it because it’s sticking up in every direction imaginable and he looks, for lack of a better word, dangerous. There’s a fire in his eyes, and Mark’s stomach does a flip when Donghyuck spots him, narrowing his eyes. 

When Mark was six, he knocked over a bucket of paint in art class. The thick, crimson liquid flowed over the whole floor, and when the teacher asked who the culprit was Mark had shamefully stood up. He’d never felt so small before, and the way he shrinks before Donghyuck reminds him a lot of the paint-incident. The intensity of Donghyuck’s gaze has always had that effect on Mark, making him feel tiny and caged in, and when he’s repressing thinly veiled anger the way he’s currently doing, it multiplies the effect. 

“Hi” Mark breathes, and the single syllable seems to detonate the bomb that is Donghyuck. 

“Not a single call back” he says, voice shaking. “And one lousy text, Mark. What the fuck is your excuse? What the  _ fuck _ are you doing?”   
Mark opens his mouth but Donghyuck holds a hand up to halt him, signalling that he isn’t done yet. His nostrils are flaring and his face is red. 

“I get that it was weird and rude of us to make out right in front of your face” he says, the words hitting Mark like a roundhouse kick in the chest. He hadn’t expected Donghyuck to actually acknowledge what happened between him and Yukhei. “But you didn’t have to run away and then fucking ignore me like that. If you have an issue with me being gay then say it to my face”

Mark feels a stab of irritation at this.   
“I have no problem with your sexuality and you know this” he says hotly, some of his anxiety melting away in the shadow of his rage. Donghyuck scoffs. 

“Do I?” he taunts with that infuriatingly teasing voice of his and Mark sees red. 

“Yes” he snaps “and either way I’m gay too, so fuck you”

The reaction is enormously satisfying: for a short moment Donghyuck looks like the words haven’t reached him. Then they sink in, and his eyes go comically wide as his jaw drops, mouth forming a perfect O. With a bittersweet taste spreading in his mouth, Mark thinks that this is the first time he’s ever rendered Donghyuck completely speechless. Well, except for that time in freshman year, when a guy had made fun of Donghyuck and Mark with a straight back and no hesitation had told him to fuck off and bother someone else. Donghyuck had looked at Mark with wide eyes, like he was seeing him for the first time, and Mark had been struck by an odd realisation that he probably looked at Donghyuck like that all the time. 

“You’re” Donghyuck starts, sputtering. “You… but why did… why did you run away then? Why have you hated Yukhei from the very start?”

Mark snorts. 

“Because I felt left out, okay? People do that sometimes” he says angrily, the embarrassing truth pouring out of him before he can stop it. “You’re both so… so… “

He has to stop and breathe for a few seconds, the words lumping together to a shapeless mass in his chest. 

“You’re like Sid and Nancy” he offers, as if that explains anything. “Fuck, you’re like Kurt and Courtney, like Frank and Gerard”

Donghyuck looks confused, which is understandable, and Mark curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ve known you for like three years, alright” he says, and it almost sounds like an accusation. “And you’ve always been so fucking cool and interesting. I mean you’re smart, and kickass and you know everything about feminism and riot grrrl punk. I’ve never really understood why you bothered keeping me around because you could probably do so much better if you just put in the effort. I always feel like I have to run to keep up with you, like you’re one step ahead of me without even realising it”   
Mark has to stop, feeling a little out of breath, but by now the waterfall of confessions is running too fast for him to stop it. 

“And then you meet Yukhei” Mark mutters, looking anywhere but Donghyuck’s big, shocked eyes. “And he’s just like you, only different. He listens to all these cool bands I’ve never heard of, and he has an awesome style and he smokes and he’s just everything I’m not. I get it, okay. I get that I’ll never quite measure up, and that you two are going to drift further and further away from me until you forget me, and that’s fine because I’m just a goddamn loser.”

Mark can’t breathe by the end of it. Something is squeezing his ribcage, his heart slamming against his ribs. Donghyuck is still staring at him like he can’t believe his ears, but his eyes are no longer filled with only shock, but also tinted with something akin to admiration. 

“You like us” he breathes, and the air freezes around Mark. 

“What?” 

It’s Mark’s turn to be stunned, his face hot and the rest of him dunked in freezing water, as if he’s naked. How did Donghyuck read that from his word vomit?

“You like us” Donghyuck repeats, louder this time, steadier. “You totally do!”

“No I don’t” Mark denies, but he’s a little slow with responding, rushing the words out a little too quickly in succession, and he knows Donghyuck can see right through his lies. Predictably, he doesn’t look deterred, just giggling. It should be like the sun coming out from behind clouds, but the truth is, it’s more like the riff on Mark’s favourite Nirvana-song. Coincidentally, it’s Donghyuck’s favourite too, but codependency isn’t on the glossary until like university, so it doesn’t really matter.

“You like us” Donghyuck gleefully says a third time, belting out a full-bellied laugh. “Both of us. You’re jealous of both me and Lucas. Because you like both of us”   
“Will you shut up?” Mark snaps, fists balling up at his sides. His face is growing hotter with each passing second and he feels exposed, humiliated. But he also can’t find it in himself to argue because Donghyuck is right and he knows it. Miserably, Mark thinks that Kurt Cobain knew what he was talking about when he wrote ‘You know you’re right’.

“Mark” Donghyuck says, smiling wider and brighter than the sun. “We like you too”

Mark’s heart skids to a stop. 

“What?” he croaks, eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. He can’t possibly have heard that right. Donghyuck is pranking him. It’s like that time he thought it’d be a great prank to call from a hidden number and pretend to be the police, only dropping the act when he realised he was about to send Mark into a full blown panic attack. Any moment he’s going to scoff and say that he’s just joking. 

Of course he is.

Because what are the odds that both Donghyuck and Xuxi, both Kurt and Courtney, would fall in love with Mark? Awkward, skinny Mark with too big eyes and too sharp cheekbones, and a taste in music entirely adapted from his best friend.

“I can practically hear what you’re thinking, stop it” Donghyuck says, ripping Mark out of his self-loathing. “No, I’m not fucking with you. Yes, we truly are in love with you. Yes, you deserve it”

Mark stares at him. The winds are growing stronger, howling loudly and tugging at his clothes, at his baggy jeans and thrift shop sweatshirt. Mark thinks about the school counsellor he went to when he was younger and his insecurities were so bad that they were unmanageable. He used to scratch himself on the back of his hand when his anxiety took over, scratch until the skin was scraped off. Mark lightly brushes over the scars and thinks about what his counsellor told him about anxiety-management. 

“But i…” Mark swallows, unsure of how to express himself. “You’re Sid and Nancy. You’re Kurt and Courtney, you’re St. Jimmy and whatsername. You’re what the whole world revolves around. I’m no one”

“Oh shut up” Donghyuck says, annoyedly clicking his tongue. “Everyone knows Sid and Nancy had a destructive relationship. Kurt and Courtney were heroinists. St. Jimmy and whatsername broke up. I idolise their music but I don’t want to be like them alright”

For a moment, Donghyuck seems to flounder, his glow matting a bit and giving way to a breath of insecurity that Mark has never seen on him before. Then he reaches forward, grasping Marks hand with determination. Mark is too perplexed to do anything, letting his scarred hand lie lax like a dead fish in Donghyuck’s grip while he stares at it like he’s seeing it for the first time. 

“I’d rather be with you” Donghyuck says, putting emphasis in every word. “Than be like any of those people. If you’ll let me have you”

He smiles. 

“I love you” he says calmly, as if he isn’t flipping Mark’s entire world upside down. “I love you, and I love Xuxi, and he loves us both”

Mark’s eyes flicker from their conjoined hands to Donghyuck’s face and back again. He bites his lip. 

“Can… can three guys date each other?” he asks shyly. Donghyuck rolls his eyes. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be very punk rock to care about that now, would it?” he asks with a crooked smile and Mark feels his heart seize in his chest because it’s just so Donghyuck, and when he says it like that Mark truly can’t find it in himself to give a shit about what they can or cannot do. He tightens his hold on Donghyuck’s hand, feeling their sweaty palms meet, something nameless and shapeless welling up inside of him and filling his entire being. 

“No” he agrees quietly. “It wouldn’t.” 

Donghyuck grins at him, proud and beautiful. 

“That’s my boy” he hums, before letting his eyes slip from Mark’s, going a little further down. Mark blushes violently when he realises he’s looking at his lips. “Can I kiss you?”   
Mark shouldn’t be surprised by the request, but somehow he still is. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and it sends his mind running into overdrive. His first thought is a loud and instinctive ‘yes!’. He hasn’t entertained the idea before, but now that it’s put before him he recognises that kissing Donghyuck would be an absolutely fantastic, marvelous turn of events. Then his mind drifts to Yukhei and he gets a little conflicted. It kind of feels like a choice, Yukhei or Donghyuck, and he doesn’t really want to pick one over the other.

Then Mark thinks about freshman year of high school, when Donghyuck had come to school wearing makeup for the first time. Those racoon-eyes and the tight, ripped jeans he’d worn had given Mark difficulty breathing, and suddenly Mark knows he can’t wait another minute.

“Yeah” he chokes out. “Please… please do”

And because Donghyuck is Donghyuck, he doesn’t hesitate even a second to fulfill Mark’s request. He leans in, and suddenly Mark finds himself with an armful of Donghyuck, leather jacket, bleached mullet and all. Then his warm, soft lips are planted square on Mark’s chapped ones, and even though Mark asked for it he’s too surprised to do anything, freezing. Donghyuck is plush against his mouth, the seam of his lips fitting perfectly against Mark’s lower lip, and after only a few seconds he breaks the kiss, laughing.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss me back?” he teases. “It’s no fun kissing a dead person”

Mark blushes and opens his mouth to apologise, and once again in true Donghyuck manner, Donghyuck takes the opportunity to kiss him. This time, their mouths are open and Mark remembers to close his eyes, fumbling to move in time with Donghyuck. He tastes like cigarettes and energy drinks, and his wet tongue sends shivers down Mark’s spine. It’s not his very first kiss, he’s played spin the bottle before, but unlike when kissing a girl he can feel it in his whole body this time. The feeling of Donghyuck’s wet lips against his ricochets throughout his whole being, creating ripples on his waters. Maybe because it’s a boy, maybe because it’s Donghyuck. 

Tentatively, unsure, Mark loops his arms around Donghyuck’s waist, shivering at the intimacy. It’s a somewhat tame kiss, but it shakes his entire soul, sending a burst of butterflies through his stomach. It’s so warm, and Donghyuck is solid under his palms. 

Donghyuck pulls away and Mark chases after him, feeling a little embarrassed when Donghyuck chuckles at him. He pecks Mark’s cheek, his own glowing a vibrant shade of pink under his copper tan. The wind has ruffled his hair and with the flames burning in his eyes he looks a whole new ballgame of punk. 

“Come on” he breathes. “Let’s go confess to Xuxi”

“But school” Mark half-heartedly protests and Donghyuck waves his hand like it’s an annoying fly.

“Tell them you’re sick, the teachers love you and they’re gonna buy it anyday. I don’t care about my attendance” he pauses and smiles at Mark, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind his ear. “But I do care about telling Yukhei, and I don’t think I can stand waiting another second to do that”

Telling Yukhei is, surprisingly, more nerve-wrecking than telling Donghyuck. Mainly because Mark hadn’t meant to confess to Donghyuck, but as he stands in the wannabe-Hot Topic he finds himself squirming under Yukhei’s intense gaze, unsure of how to put his feelings into words. Donghyuck pretends to look at the piercings that are on display, even though they’re 8 millimetre gauges and he doesn’t even have holes in his ears. 

“Okay” Mark mutters, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. “I… uh I haven’t been very nice to you Yukhei”

Yukhei raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s fine” he says, and sounds like he genuinely means it. “I get that it’s not easy, that it must have felt like I was stealing Donghyuck from you and leaving you alone behind”

Mark stares at Yukhei and thinks that he might have to rethink his initial impression of Yukhei being dumb. 

“Uhm, yeah” he says, dazedly. “Exactly like… like that”

He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. 

“But the truth is” he stutters. “That I… I wasn’t just jealous of you for stealing Hyuck, I was also jealous of… of Hyuck. Because I… I like you. Like, I like you too. Like I like Hyuck”

Yukhei stares at him blankly, looking like a lost puppy and Mark sort of wants to pet him, but holds back out of practical reasons (the practical reasons being a) their height difference and b) the fact that Yukhei’s hair is styled in liberty spikes today, and Mark doubts that the hairsprayed little peaks would feel very nice to the touch). 

Donghyuck sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“What Mark is trying to say” he supplies helpfully, linking their arms to make everything overly clear. “Is that he wants to hold you hand and kiss you, like he wants to do with me and like we do with each other”

Yukhei’s face lights up like a christmas tree and it’s the sweetest thing Mark has ever seen.

“Really?” he asks excitedly and when Mark nods he pumps his fist in the air like an actual loser. “Yes! Love wins again!”

Donghyuck scoffs, muttering something along the lines of ‘god, you dork’. Yukhei either doesn’t hear or ignores him.

“Man, I was totally sure you hated me” he says easily.

Mark chuckles embarrassedly, rubbing his arm. 

“I didn’t” he mumbles. “I don’t”

Yukhei grins, his smile glinting brighter than his piercings. 

“I’m glad” he says. “I’ve been into you since like, first sight”

Mark looks at him disbelievingly. He knows Yukhei has no reason to lie, and that Donghyuck has told him many many times to not question people’s affection for him, but he has an incredibly hard time believing that a walking punk-sex-god like Wong Yukhei would be ‘into’ a greasy skater like Mark. 

“No really” Yukhei insists upon seeing Mark’s questioning grimace. “I have a thing for guys who look like they haven’t slept or showered in a week, and like they live off of instant ramen and pot”

“Shut up” Mark whines. “I shower everyday. And I don’t even smoke cigarettes”

“I know babe” Yukhei grins, Mark’s belly doing flips at the pet name. “You’re more of a straight edge kind of guy. But don’t worry, I dig that too”

Then he peers over Mark’s shoulder, surveying their surroundings.

“I shouldn’t” he says casually, as if he’s discussing the weather, “because my shift isn’t over yet, but can I kiss you?”

Mark thinks that if his poor, weak heart has to suffer through that question one more time in the next 24 hours he’s actually going to die. He opens and closes his mouth a few time, brain buffering like an old computer. He can practically hear the jingle of Windows shutting down.

“Sure” he offers meekly and Yukhei shoots him a smirk, actually  _ jumping _ over the counter before grabbing Mark by the waist, making him squeak. He cups Mark’s cheek with one of his stupidly big hands, the other one splaying out across his ribs, its warmth seeping through Mark’s shirt. 

Xuxi’s kisses are different from Donghyuck, but not a bad different. Just like how their personalities are wonderful in different ways, their kisses are pleasant in different ways. Yukhei starts by teasingly nipping at Mark’s lower lip, pressing a multitude of light butterfly kisses on his lips before fully kissing him. It’s faster, more fiery than Donghyuck, and it’s obvious he’s had more practice. It’s just as good, and Mark feels weak in the knees. With Yukhei, Mark is better at reading the signals and he doesn’t awkwardly chase after him when they break apart at the sound of Donghyuck clearing his throat. 

“As much as I’d love to keep watching” he says, giving them both a onceover that makes Mark feel like a prey before its predator “a customer just entered the shop and you should probably break it up before they notice and tell your manager”

Mark can feel his face go cherry red, while Yukhei just shrugs sheepishly before pressing a wet peck to Mark’s hot cheek. Somehow, the kiss makes it burn even more. Then he jumps back over the counter with an agility that should be illegal, putting on a mask of professionalism.

Donghyuck sticks his tongue out at Lucas.

“Show-off” he mutters and Mark jumps as Donghyuck’s arms snake around his waist, a chin digging into his shoulder. “When does your shift end?”

“In two hours” Yukhei pouts and Donghyuck nods.

“Awesome” he says, resting a light hand on Mark’s hip. The touch sets his nerves on fire. “Wanna come over to Mark’s place? His parents always work late on mondays”

Xuxi waggles his eyebrows.

“Oh, your parents aren’t home?” he says, overly suggestively, earning himself a scandalised look from the woman who’s eyeing the band T-shirt an aisle away. Donghyuck groans.

“I wonder if it would be possible to surgically remove your brain from your dick” he deadpans, the crude words earning them another horrified look from the patreon. “It’s not like that you moron”

Then he pauses, staring off into the distance as if he’s gotten an idea. Mark can almost make out the tiny cartoonish lightbulb above his head. Donghyuck sticks a finger into Mark’s side, leaning in until his lips are against the shell of his ear, hot breath hitting the side of his face and sending chills down his spine.

“Unless you want it to be like that?” he asks and Mark is mortified by the slight stiffening in his pants. Thank God they’re baggy.

“Uhm” he eloquently says, voice cracking because the universe hates him. “I… I mean… “

He breaks himself off with a nervous laughter, trying to ease his nerves. He feels like a piece of meat, with Donghyuck’s hands on his body and Yukhei pinning him down with his heavy gaze. It makes him feel small and surrounded, and Mark finds that he can kind of understand how some people can take pleasure in being tied up. “Maybe this is not… the right place to talk about it?”

Donghyuck squeals and Xuxi does what looks like a small victory dance.

“Bro” he says, eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. “I really want to suck your dick. Can I?”

And that’s where Mark draws the line, giving out a high pitched screech in an attempt to censor Yukhei’s way too straight-to-the-point question. 

“We’ll talk more about this later, bye!” he yells, grabbing a laughing Donghyuck by the arm and physically dragging him out of the store. He doesn’t stop laughing until halfway home, when he literally runs out of breath and can’t laugh anymore. Still breathing heavily, he pulls out his phone and a pair of beat-up headphones. He offers one to Mark who accepts it with a quiet ‘thanks’, and then unlocks his phone. Mark watches him fiddle with his screen, observing the small crease between his brows. He watches his bangs flutter in the wind, watches the way his eyelashes brush against the high points of his cheeks as he looks down.

When Mark met Donghyuck for the first time, he looked vastly different from now. He had acne, not as bad as Mark but still quite visible, he hadn’t yet traded his awkwardly sized flannel shirts for leather jackets, and he had never dyed his hair. His nails were unevenly painted and his jeans shapeless, but when they sat down to work on their project, he’d shoved an earpod into Mark’s ear and pressed play on a song Mark had never heard before, effectively setting the tone for the friendship that would bloom between them. 

Wow, Mark dazedly thinks to himself. I really do love him. Both of them. 

Then a familiar guitar riff rips out of the headphone and drills straight into Mark’s brain, and Domghyuck looks up at him with a cheeky grin, as if he just played the most awesome prank. Mark just grins and plays the air guitar, letting Donghyuck take over on air drums. 

And when the verse starts, they both sing into fists curled around invisible microphones, uncaring of who’s around and what they might think:

_ Load up all guns, bring your friends _

_ It’s fun to lose and to pretend _

**Author's Note:**

> Whew if you made it to the end, I hope you enjoyed that mess! Once again, this was very self indulgent. I mainly just wanted to promote my favourite alt rock bands hehe but I also wanted to write lumarkhyuck and it worked quite well to combine those two. 
> 
> If you liked it, drop a kudo and a comment :3 see ya!


End file.
